


Never Poke a Sleeping Dragon

by Scribomaniac



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AU, Drama, F/M, Romance, aelin goes to doranelle, aelin is raised royal, erawan doesn't rise, later angst, possibly, terrasen doesn't fall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribomaniac/pseuds/Scribomaniac
Summary: AU where Erawan was never awakened and Aelin is sent to Wendlyn to meet her Aunt Maeve and fulfill her mother's promise. Along the way she meets the members of Maeve's court. The most notable being Prince Rowan Whitethorn. 
(Just a short oneshot right now, but that may change later on.)





	1. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! So I've decided to add on to my snippet and make this a full on, multi chaptered thing.   
> So far, in this AU:   
> Erawan is asleep  
> Maeve is still a conniving bitch who wants the keys  
> Aelin's parents are alive  
> Rowan never met Lyria/Maeve never fucked with him in that way  
> The gods still want to return to their home/a Lock is still needed
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Aelin stormed out of the compound, leaving Maeve in her wake. Her aunt was awful.  All sharp teeth and claws just waiting to eat her up. She only came here to fulfill a promise made by her mother—to finally get Maeve off Terrasen’s back. But now it seemed Maeve wanted her to stay and train. To see how powerful her magic was.

It was all a load of rubbish to Aelin. She didn’t need to train. She didn’t need to learn how to tap into her magic. All her magic ever did was get her into trouble anyway. It made the nobles of Terrasen fear her and doubt her ability to rule. It was better to just leave it alone.

She walked down a mossy path, intending to return to the stables, grab her horse, and return to Wendlyn, her Ashryver cousins, and, most importantly, Aedion. Who she knew was raising all sorts of hell while waiting for her back in the royal castle. She was just a few steps away when she noticed white tailed hawk fly overhead. With a flash of light that stopped her in her tracks, Aelin blinked and found a Fae male with long, white hair and vivid green eyes standing before her. Her mouth turned dry and she had to remind herself how to breath. He was beautiful.

His jaw ticked with anger, or maybe restraint, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “My Queen has not given you permission to leave, _princess_.” His tone was hard, commanding. It was exactly what Aelin would expect from any warrior, Fae or no. His eyes, though, they held her tongue. In his eyes was something more. Something mischievous and almost playful. He was goading her.

Smiling at him in a way that sent most courtiers into a tizzy, Aelin tilted her head. “Is that so, _buzzard_?”

His lips twitched and she just _knew_ that he repressed a laugh. It would seem the Fae had a sense of humor after all. She took a step forward, planning on slowly making her way closer to the stables to make her escape, but his hawk eyes missed nothing and narrowed in on her. “It is, princess. Queen Maeve has ordered for you to be trained, and so you will be.”

“And you're going to train me?” Outwardly, she put on a show of looking him over suspiciously, but on the inside her heart was pounding. Her skin felt hot and for a terrifying moment, Aelin thought she'd set herself on fire. The Fae wasn't staring at her like she had done such a thing, though, so she figured this feeling was due to him. “And who are you to my aunt that she trusts you so?”

Smirking, he lifted his chin, “Prince Rowan Whitethorn, blood sworn to her majesty.”

“Oh, a _prince_! Do forgive me for my poor manners!” Aelin said with a dramatic flourish, her hands coming up to rest over her heart. Curtsying lowly, she batted her eyelashes at him. She smiled in utter triumph when she saw his lips twitch again. Standing back up, she took a step closer to Rowan. The closer she stepped, the faster her heart beat. She wondered if he could hear it pattering away in her chest. His eyes widened just a fraction at her approach, and Aelin wondered what would happen if she shifted into her Fae form. Would she be able to hear _his_ heart beat? Would it be beating as quickly as hers?

The cold hands of fear tightened over her throat, squeezing the air out of her lungs and stopping her in her movements. Shifting into her Fae form, using her heightened hearing—she shouldn't be having such thoughts. They were dangerous. _She_ was dangerous. If she ever lost control of her fire . . . she didn't want to think about it.

The winds shifted, blowing her long, gold hair into her face. Rowan, now down wind from her, took a step forward as his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated, making his green eyes turn almost completely black. He took another step towards her, quickly closing the gap between them. Aelin's heart jumped into her throat.

She stepped back.

“Aelin,” Rowan whispered softly, but with meaning. She took more steps back, her smile, her swagger, everything good and happy and playful slipped away from her as she began to tremble with a fear she didn't understand. Rowan tilted his head with confusion as her fear crashed over him in waves. He snarled, whipping around to see what was frightening her.

In the dark recesses of her mind, Aelin knew what was happening between her and Rowan. Instinctively, she understood the small string in her heart tugging her closer to him, but she pushed all that out. Whatever she was feeling was definitely not human. Aelin was human—she _was_ . . . no matter what some of those gossiping courtiers might say.

Rowan had turned back around to face her, having found nothing behind him, and understanding dawned in his eyes. He stopped trying to get closer to her and his face drained of all color. “Aelin,” he whispered again, this time it sounded like a plea. Aelin watched him warily, ready to haul ass if needed. Rowan swallowed slowly, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. A million thoughts, a million plans flash through his mind. Aelin watched them go.

She needed to leave. Now. She needed to get back to Wendlyn—back to Aedion. He'd know what to do. He'd know how to keep her safe. She took another step. Not backwards, but sideways, in an attempt to get around Rowan and to the stables.

“No,” Rowan growled desperately, his fangs gleaming in the sun. She flinched at the sound. She wasn't afraid of him, or how he looked. She wasn't afraid of him at all. It was his voice. That growled out word. She wanted to say something, anything that would clear that horrible, pained expression from his face. But she couldn't.

With tremendous self control—more control than Aelin had ever seen anyone possess—he turned away from her. Then, with a bright light, he shifted into his hawk form and flew away from her.

Aelin didn't know what to do. For a long time she stayed rooted to the spot and watched Rowan's form as it became smaller and smaller in the distance. She wondered where he was going, and felt that string in her heart yank painfully, begging her to run after him. She started forward, her body following her heart's command, but then jerked to a stop.

She needed to leave. She needed to return to her cousins in Wendlyn. She needed Aedion. Turning heel, Aelin ran to the stables and quickly saddled her horse. She was out of Mistward in no time and would most likely be back in the palace within the next hour or so. If she rode hard. If she had a clear path. On her way down, though, a stupid, hopeless—and possibly heartsick—part of her begged for something to stop her. Prayed for anything to get in her way. Aelin cursed herself.

She kept searching the skies as she rode. Kept searching for that beautiful Fae in his white tailed hawk form. She told herself she was being smart; keeping an eye out for the enemy. But she knew. Aelin knew that no matter how far she ran, or how hard she rode, she couldn't escape this—couldn't escape _him_. And, if she were being honest with herself, Aelin knew that she didn't want to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Rowan Whitethorn

Rowan flew hard on the winds back to Doranelle, his magic helping to speed him along. He needed to talk to Maeve. He needed answers. Did Maeve know her niece was Rowan's mate? She couldn't have, and yet . . . and yet his instincts roared at him otherwise. His thoughts veered back to Aelin. She was beautiful. Gods, so beautiful it made Rowan's heart hurt. He knew she was his mate the second he caught her scent, maybe even before that. He had immediately wanted to hold her, embrace her in every way in bask in the gift that was their bond.

Aelin's face, frozen with fear, flashed in his mind. She recognized their bond, too. He knew she did. Just as he knew the idea of it scared her more than anything in this world. He smelled her fear, knew the exact second when that fear wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed. Rowan didn't understand. Why did their bond scare her so? He needed answers, and Maeve was the only one who could give them to him.

He stopped abruptly halfway to Doranelle, his winds continuing on without him and causing many leaves to fall and branches to moan from his magic's abuse. He remembered earlier that day, when Maeve had assigned him to seek out Aelin to train her. Fenrys had volunteered. In fact, the White Wolf had all but begged Maeve to be temporarily released to train Aelin. Maeve hadn't given him a second look, though. Without batting an eye, she ordered Rowan to train the Terrasen princess. At the time Rowan hadn't given it a second thought, but now . . .

He couldn't return to Doranelle. Not now, not with his mate out there. If Maeve had planned this—and that was a small if—then she might order Rowan to remain in Doranelle out of pure spite. He flapped his wings and took off again, back in Aelin's direction.

He'd been stupid. So stupid. How could he just leave her like that? He left her alone and completely defenseless. Pulling on his magic again, he flew on the fastest winds back to Mistward's stables and where he last saw his mate. He shifted mid air and landed on his two feet in a crouch. Aelin's scent was faint. She'd obviously hauled ass the moment he flew away. _So stupid_!

Shifting again in a flash of light, Rowan took off after her scent. He had to fly slower in order to track her scent. Aelin had been smart. She hadn't fled in one, easily traceable direction, she'd zigged and zagged all the way back to Wendlyn to throw off any pursuers. Her sound mind for survival, even while in the grips of fear and panic, made his heart swell with pride for his mate. The swell lasted for another whole minute before he followed her scent down a path that led towards the cliffs that overlooked the ocean.

Aelin didn't know— _couldn't_ know—what lived in the caves of those cliffs. If she did, then she'd never take that route. Skinwalkers infested those caves. He looked to the sky. The sun was setting. _Shit_.

His well of magic erupted and the winds pulled him along their currents towards the cliffs. He listened for sounds of struggles, of fighting, of anything. Sounds of rustling and hissing flooded his ears and his heart dropped into his stomach. Next, the smell of death and decay hit him so hard he almost faltered from the overwhelming sense. He couldn't use his magic to kill them, skinwalkers didn't breath, and his blades wouldn't stop them for long. Rowan would need to use every bit of experience he'd gathered in his three hundred some off years to save Aelin and get the two of them away from the skinwalkers. Finally he could see them and what he saw sent a shock of surprise through his body.

Aelin was fighting. Her horse was missing, and Rowan wondered if the skinwalkers got to them or if Aelin had been able to set it free before defending herself. She had a dagger in each hand and moved like lightning, lashing out and slicing at anything that came too close to her while simultaneously flashing in and out of the skinwalker's grasp. There was a determined glint in her eyes and a flare of something else, something more, that made Rowan think she was enjoying this dance. It was exhilarating to watch, but also terrifying. Shifting quickly back into his Fae form, Rowan drew his sword and quickly sliced through the three skinwalkers and grabbed Aelin by her forearm. “Run!” He commanded, his face set in a dangerous snarl. He needed her to listen to him. Nodding with wide eyes, Aelin didn't hesitate and ran with him.

He held onto her hand as they ran from the skinwalkers. To help guide her through the now dark forest or to reassure himself that she was with him, he wasn't sure, but he refused to let go. He looked back over his shoulder and cursed. The skinwalkers were after them now and they weren't running fast enough. He looked at Aelin and cursed again. “You need to shift, Aelin. Now. Or your mortal slowness will kill us.” He knew she could shift. Maeve had informed him of that much, but he also knew from their last encounter that this wouldn't be easy for his mate.

She stiffened, her eyes widening with shock and fear, and she swallowed thickly. Her brows furrowed with concentration. At first, he wasn't sure if Aelin would be able to shift after all, when after a few moments she began to shake her head in resignation. “I can't,” she huffed out, her breathing turning shallow with panic. “I can't—” her breath caught in her throat.

Rowan pulled her to the side, hiding them both behind the trunk of a wide tree. It'd give them coverage for just a few precious moments. These moments would decide their fates. Placing his hands on either side of her face, Rowan leaned his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes. Their breaths mingled and his senses were enveloped in her scent. It made him dizzy. “Breath, Aelin,” he coached quietly, his words barely above a whisper. “Breath, and shift.”

Aelin's face contorted in pain and Rowan swore again before slamming his body against hers to smother the flash of light that came with her shift. She looked like she'd vomit, but thankfully was able to hold the instinct back. The skinwalkers were closing in on them now. They could both hear them now, talking about what they'd do to them once they caught them. Aelin's face turned pale, but she didn't make a sound. Her eyes flickered back up to his and this time when he looked in them he didn't see any fear. This time the only thing shining through her bright turquoise eyes—he could see now that there were small, golden rings around her pupils—was determination. Steeling himself, he eased off her a bit and spoke even more quiet than before since she now had Fae hearing, “There is a large river a third of a mile east, at the base of a large cliff. When I say run, you run like hell. Step where I step and don't turn around for anything. If we're separated run straight for the river,” she nodded, command after command, her jaw set with focus and attention. The skinwalkers smell was becoming stronger. They were closing in. “If they catch you, you cannot kill them—not with a mortal weapon. Your best chance is to fight until you get free and run. Understand?”

She nodded again and Rowan nodded back, “On my mark,” they lowered ourselves, winding their muscles into a tightly packed spring. Rowan sent his magic to break a loose tree limb from it's tree in the opposite direction from us and once Rowan heard the skinwalkers turn their attention towards the noise, Rowan hissed, “Now,” and ran.

Even now they couldn't go as fast as Rowan wanted. Aelin was unused to her Fae form and therefore awkward. She stumbled for a moment, but Rowan steadied her with a grasp on her elbow and urged, “Faster!”

The cliff was just a few yards ahead of them when a fourth skinwalker jumped out in front of them and swiped for Rowan. He leapt out of the way and threw a dagger at it. “Run!” He yelled at Aelin, who had looked back towards the skirmish. She hesitated, but soon began to run again after Rowan's wind pushed her along. After flinging the skinwalker away with a strong gust of wind, Rowan soon ran after Aelin and quickly caught up. “Jump!” He commanded before hurtling himself off the ledge of the cliff.

For one terrible, heart stopping moment, Rowan thought Aelin wouldn't jump with him. That for some reason, she decided she didn't want to follow his commands or escape the skinwalkers, and decided to stay atop the ledge instead. But then he saw her fling herself from the ledge, her face twisted with feral animosity as she shouted down to him, “Shift!”

He did as she commanded, his shift illuminating their surroundings for just a moment, enabling him to see the skinwalkers jumping off the ledge after them. Schemes and strategies flooded his mind as he watched their decent, preparing himself to fight them once they landed in the river. Aelin had other ideas, though, and twisted her body to face the skinwalkers mid air. Thrusting her hands out towards the skinwalkers, she hissed one word before the world erupted in blue flame, “Surprise.”

Aelin, after landing in the water, swam to the river bank and stared up at the top of the cliff side while her fire raged on and consumed everything in its path. Shifting back to his Fae form, Rowan landed on the riverbank next to her and stared in awe of her power. The little princess of Terrasen had incinerated everything in her wake. The skinwalkers hadn't even had time to scream. Aelin knelt on her knees as she watched the flames burn, then, in a flash of bright light, shifted back into her human form and dry heaved. Rowan took a step towards her, his instincts to comfort her screaming at him, but then stopped just short of her. Fear tainted her scent once more, but this time it was accompanied by second emotion: disgust.

She took a few shaky breaths, trying to calm herself down, before she was able to ask in a tired, quiet voice, “Can you put it out?”

“You could,” he said gently, hoping to encourage her to embrace her magic. “If you tried.” When she didn't respond, he repressed a sigh and turned away to look at the fires above them. “I'm almost done.” In truth, he'd been working on putting the flames out this entire time. It wouldn't be much longer before the fire was completely smothered.

Aelin was still crouching down on her knees by the time the fire was smothered, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Rowan could see the faint tremble in her body and this time didn't bother to suppress his sigh. He looked up into the dark sky and watched the stars for a moment before looking back to his mate. What had happened to her, he wondered, to make her fear her magic—fear herself—so much? “Come on, princess.” He gave her a smirk, trying to tease out the swagger he witnessed from her earlier that day. “Let's get you home.”

Aelin didn't look at him, but he saw her lips twitch in a hint of a smile. Standing to her feet now she seemed much more stable than just a few moments ago. Still, her arms stayed wrapped protectively around herself. Taking in a deep breath, she finally looked up at Rowan as she walked past him. For a moment, he thought she'd continue walking without a backwards glance and make it to Wendlyn without him. Then, just a few yards away from him, Aelin stopped. After a few moments of some internal struggle, she turned around and smiled shyly at him. “Well? What are you waiting for, buzzard?” Her smile turned into a smirk filled with all the bravado a swaggering royal could muster. “An invitation?” Her hand twitched, but after another small struggle, Aelin reached her hand out and offered it to him.

Breath escaped him and Rowan's heart thud painfully against his chest as he looked at her outstretched hand. He looked at her, looked her in the eyes and scented the air for her scent. Although there was hesitation, she no longer looked at him in fear. It didn't mean she accepted him as her mate, but it was a step in the right direction. Taking a step towards her, he took his mate's hand in his own and smiled softly down at the physical connection. He looked up to see Aelin watching him. Her shy, tentative smile was back, but it was sincere and honest and more than he could ever ask for.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! Thank you so, so much to everyone who left a comment/kudos on the first chapter. You guys rock! 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Some pieces were taken from Heir of Fire, but I thought that would lend some authenticity to the moment and I hope no one is offended too much by it. I did my usual edit of grammar/spelling check, but if someone notices some error that slipped out please just let me know and I can fix it in a jiffy. 
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter . . . I kind of still have to map out a plot for this story (oops), but I can post updates on my tumblr (scribomaniac) to keep you guys informed if you'd like.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and please leave a review!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very open to prompts/requests right now for the TOG fandom. I'm down for anything so long as it's SWF. Just shoot me a message if you're interested.
> 
> Please leave a comment/kudos and let me know what you thought!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr under the same pen name: scribomaniac


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